


And the Console Makes Three

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Community: cabinpres_fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=1179352#t1179352">Prompt</a>: "[...] full-blown sexy shenanigans in the flight deck [...] Especially inspired by the phrase that has cropped up a bit: 'Bugger you senseless over the console'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Console Makes Three

The way Martin is splayed over the console, hands clutching at the controls, Douglas feels like he's part of a threesome - him, Martin, and Gerti. He can't begrudge the old girl the attention though, not when Martin rubs his cheek on the altimeters, moans, and cants his hips to push back against Douglas.

Douglas pumps into him rhythmically, angling for that spot that will make Martin whimper and shout Douglas' name. His fingers dig into Martin's hips, clutching him tightly, attempting to hold him in place. Sweat drips off Douglas' forehead and onto Martin's naked back. Martin is entirely naked, in fact, except for the Captain's hat that he somehow manages to keep on his head, despite the writhing. Douglas, by contrast, is fully clothed - Martin's whispered request - except for the trousers pooling around his ankles.

Douglas feels overheated in his clothes, and his uniform is going to have to go straight to the dry cleaners, but when he drags his clothed arms over Martin's back, or the edge of his jacket rasps against Martin's hips, Martin gasps and mutters incoherently, and it's more than enough compensation for any cleaning bills Douglas will incur.

"Come on, Douglas," Martin murmurs, voice rough and deep. "Stop holding back."

"I'm not holding back," Douglas gets out, panting. " _You_ try doing all the work, see how it is."

Martin's face turns towards him suddenly and Douglas catches his eye - the left one, since the right side of Martin's face is still pressed against the console. There's something hungry and dazzled in Martin's gaze.

"Would- would you want me to?" he whispers.

Douglas pretends to consider it, as if the thought never occurred to him before, while his hips never stop moving, rocking into Martin.

"Well, you seem to be having an awful lot of fun with it. I've never been one to deny myself a pleasure."

"Well," Martin tries to say nonchalantly, "finish what you've, ah!" The pretense of nonchalance would work better if his words didn't come out broken and breathless, "started here and I'll consider- oh! g-granting you thi-this favour."

"Thank you, Sir," Douglas murmurs low, almost subvocally, and Martin's reply is inarticulate; his back arches and his hips jerk.

Also, Douglas was lying before - he was holding back. He pulls out all the stops now, rocking his hips in a punishing rhythm. Drops of sweat fly from the tips of his hair, his balls slap wetly on Martin's arse, Martin moans and shouts; Douglas pants heavily, feeling his orgasm approach.

"Martin, Martin," he groans.

Martin clenches around him, and Douglas lets the wonderful, unique feeling of a screaming orgasm take him over. When he's all emptied out, he pulls out of Martin carefully, and takes stock of the man sprawled before him.

Martin's face is flushed; sweat shines on his spine, his hair is dishevelled - at some point during the last few minutes his Captain's hat has finally slipped from his head and lies on the console, next to Martin's curls. Martin's cock is still hard, its head covered in precome. Martin whimpers and grinds against the hard metal.

Douglas is tired, but he picks up Martin, just takes him in his arms and turns him over, deposes him with his arse on the console (and doesn't, really doesn't think about lube and come dripping on the controls, or about a lever or button entering Martin's hole where Douglas' cock has just been; it's enough of a threesome already), crunches down and takes him in his mouth. Martin yelps something that might have started out as Douglas' name.

Douglas sucks once, twice, and suddenly come drips in his mouth, on his lips, on his chin. Martin whimpers, a high sound, his hands flail towards Douglas' face. Douglas slides into the seat, pulling Martin with him, and they kiss messily. Martin's cheek is still half cold from the console, and Douglas warms it with his tongue. Douglas' cheeks are full of Martin's come, and Martin's tongue smears it all over Douglas' jaw.

When his breath has steadied, and he's pretty sure that his voice won't crack, Douglas speaks again.

"I take my previous words back, Captain. The flight deck is an _excellent_ place for a standby. _Much_ better than a coffee shop."

"Hmm," Martin hums smugly. "Glad we agree."


End file.
